


Tiny little fractures

by ColorfulStabwound



Series: The Diary Of Gellert Grindelwald [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aberforth Dumbledore - Freeform, Goats, Godric's Hollow, Grindeldore, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:04:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulStabwound/pseuds/ColorfulStabwound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus wants the world but doesn’t know how to tell it so; Gellert thinks he will help him achieve it, even if that means bending him until he breaks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiny little fractures

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware that my German is far from perfect, but I feel it is important to include it all the same as this is how *I* see Gellert in my own head. As I do not have anyone fluently capable in the language around me, you get what you get. I do try my best; enjoy.

He likes to imagine it was fate, fate that brought me to him on that warm day on the precipice of summer. Sometimes I leave him to believe it, even though we both know it is simply not true; other times, mostly when I feel like a fight, I object and send all his dreams crashing to his feet. Other times still find us exchanging a kindred smile, they types that know all within the walls of their silence.

And we know.

_“Why are you here, Gellert?”_

He says to me, and I simply have to smile and laugh at this for it is so predictable I could have written it down on parchment before I left tante’s house.  He looks at me like he knows that I am mocking him in my way and the blue of his eyes pierces me just a little bit. This is _his_ way, the way he gets the things he wants when I am feeling jovial enough to indulge him.

“You waste time seeking answers you already possess, meine Liebe.”

I feel his shoulder quiver beside me and I smile; he can hardly resist reaching for me and I can hardly blame him. I take time with casting my gaze up to the sky, squinting against the brilliant white of the too-bright sun high up in the sky.

Tante tells me Godric’s Hollow is experiencing an exceptionally warm summer, sometimes she credits my presence to the suns warmth and sometimes I do not correct her.  She is a simple woman, my tante, but I suppose she means well in her own way. All her dusty books and records are good for something, I hear. Sometimes I whisper in her ear while she rocks in that creaking chair on the porch, the one that looks like it’s begging to be tossed in the fireplace. I tell her that one day, one day she will write about me. Sometimes she laughs in her short, balking sort of way, which amuses me greatly. She is not so bad you know, my tante. She introduced us, after all; I suppose I have her to thank for that much at least.

_“Where have you gone?”_

He murmurs beside me and I am drawn back to the present. Back to the sunshine and wildflowers and dry grass and idly buzzing insects. My head rolls to one side and I flash him my wildest of smiles, perhaps he will think that I know something that he does not; I do love that game.

“I am right here, do you not see me? Do you not feel my flesh, my bone?”

It only takes one quick turn and I’ve rolled him over, flat on his back. I peer down at him from where I lie partially atop him and the expression on his face is such a mixture of surprise and adoration that I tell myself I must remember it for all eternity. I make quick work of finding a comfortable position in this new way of ours, I can feel him tense beneath me as my legs straddle his middle and I can’t help but toss my head back and laugh at his innocence. It is ironic that he is the older of us when I so clearly have outgrown him in ways such as these. The flush he wears is appropriate, considering the heat of the day all around us, and it pleased me to know that I could so easily bring him to this state.

If he only knew of the places I would take him still, before this fleeting relationship had slipped between our fingertips.

“Tell me something exciting. I feel like this is a day for that sort of thing. “

I want to listen to him talk, even if the subject is disinteresting. This is his way, what he shines at, and I like to see it if only to remind myself that there is more brilliance in him than the color of those eyes. I am not moving and he is not objecting, and as I wave my hands through the air as if to address the insects hovering, he starts talking. His melody makes me smile and I listen with a cocked head and a piercing gaze of my own.

_“…Aberforth asked me not to see you today, did you know? He really dislikes you immensely, which I know pleases you Gellert, but I would much rather we all got along. He doesn’t understand our friendship, and honestly, I don’t want him to. Some things are just not meant to be understood, you know? Needless to say, he was not pleased when I dressed to leave this morning. He pulled his wand at the table, can you believe it? On me. His own brother. Lucky that Arianna was still asleep, I can only imagine what the tension would have brought out in her. Do you know what happened then, Gellert? Listen closely; I’m sure you’ll enjoy this part. I asked Aberforth to mind his own business and do you know what he did? He blew up my porridge. Blew it right up mid-bite. Naturally I couldn’t finish eating, what with my breakfast now painting the walls and ceiling so I calmly set down my spoon and even more calmly directed him to choke on his goats milk. Well, he didn’t like that one bit and promptly stormed off, but not before cursing you; rather colorfully I might add. I don’t understand why he’s so angry all the time, why he can’t just let me have this one thing...He was talking to that silly goat when I left the house, I think he was telling it what an influence you are on me.”_

His story was not out of the ordinary, Aberforth had always disliked me, and I imagine I never was very fond of him either. He is simple, not worth our time, but this story struck me as humorous still. I did not stop myself from laughing at the picture Albus painted with his words, it was at least a little bit funny, and that made it okay.

“Ah,  brother Aberforth is sometimes the goat I think.”

I waved a dismissive hand through the sea of air and insects and wrinkled my nose even as I leaned over him, nearly nose to nose now.

“Such time you waste with that family of yours, meine Liebe. We will show them all one day, of this I am certain.”

Yes, one day.

His breath is caught in his chest, the tightness is evident in the ragged rise and fall and it pleases me. My fingertips slide over the front of his cotton shirt because they can, mapping protruding bones and sickly white skin. I do not miss the mild flash of terror in his eyes, co mingled with the soothing haze that he often wears when I touch him. It emboldened me to have this power over him, I hope to one day have this power over the world; he would do for now.

“It’s too warm for such stories, perhaps a swim then.”

It is here that my fingers find the ties of his loose fitting shirt, tugging on them until they give beneath my command, the fabric falling apart obediently. I lean back enough to sit him up; I am determined to bend him until he breaks, if only to have him mend again; ready for a new and clean break.

_“Gellert…”_

He whispers, his throat hoarse with excitement and uncertainty. It only makes me smile, my given name on his dried and abused lips. I tug his shirt up over his head and toss it aside and I know firmly that he’s never felt so vulnerable before.

“There there, schatz, is this not what you desire of me? Tell me such things and I will stop at once. Tell me I am wrong and I will leave you be in this regard.”

His frailty is like a gift and I want to devour him, take him for my own so that he might never escape me. I am not so this way, I know in my mind that pleasures of the flesh are better left to the simple minded, these ways were not something I needed to complete my journey of greatness; but I know he did. Albus was a brilliant mind and a formidable companion, but he was still tethered firmly to his emotions. I am the better of us for being able to recognize this, I will indulge him because I know he desires it; I will give him this of me because I can, and because ultimately it is I who holds the power. And he will know…

_“What if somebody…”_

His words are left unfinished beneath the finger I now press to his lips to quiet him. Ah, this equal of mine, he worries still of what other people think. These things do not matter, when will he know this in his own heart?

“Let them talk, it gives them something to do.”

I laugh at this, bold and defiant. A sudden breeze catches my hair and carries it up and I laugh some more. I can feel him shaking beneath his surface, beneath my fingertips, all ragged breaths and sharp angles. 

He wants the world but doesn’t know how to tell it so; I think I will help him achieve it.

The sun seems adamant in its torture and it beats down upon us with renewed force. A sweat drop slides down the center of my back and I grin as I slip out of my frock.  He’s watching me behind eyes that are all heart and for just a moment I think that maybe I can feel like he feels.

“Tell me what you want, schatz.”

I whisper as I lean very close, the warmth of his skin reaching out to me beneath the layers I still wore. I was determined to hear it spoken in his own words, his true and real voice. I know he has it in him, somewhere inside there.

_“You.”_

It is but one word that means so many more, a solitary plea slipping past lips that secretly long for too many things. I smile, something like satisfied and I reward him with a teasing brush of lips to his feverish skin.

“I know.”

I whisper in his ear as I lie him down amongst the dead grass, his compliance pleases me and my smile grows still. He does not object as I pull my own shirt over my head and toss it aside, nor does he object when my fingers find the closures of his breeches. By the time I finish my work he’s lain out before me like a waxen angel for my taking; this pleases me. His pale skin is mottled with desperation and adoration and I can’t help but examine every inch of this treasure, meine schatz, just for me.

“This will always be for me and me alone. Is this not so, meine liebe?”

My fingertips trace over the ruddy marks loitering on his skin and I wait, wait for the confirmation that will please me yet.

_“I am yours alone, Gellert. Always.”_

His words ebb and flow like evening tides over sand and it pleases me on the inside this time. I want to be smug about this revelation but I think I come across as proud, but still he understands.

“Yes.”

I agree with a singular word, and it’s enough. When I part his thighs he does not object, he only shivers; and when I trace over the hidden flesh that has not yet been tainted with his fever he only sighs softly and it sounds like a soft breeze. I have a strong urge to mark this virginal skin and I do, first with my nails and then with my teeth. He will wear these new bruises like armor long after we leave this idyllic field and I smile at this knowledge. He is fragile and somehow immeasurably strong; this thought strikes me as we come together; no longer two entities, but one.

We are one, always one.

When he cries out I stifle it with a kiss to his throat and I know, I know that we will find ourselves like this again before our time together has passed. He clings to me like a newborn clinging to life and we move like it’s not a sin to even be here in this too-dry grass as we were.

_“Why are you here, Gellert?”_

He asks me again, this time we are both staring up at the waning sun and my skin is nearly as mottled as his now. I smile in a lazy sort of way; the sated and agreeable nature I wallow in currently is not altogether unwelcomed to me just now.

 

“For you.”

I answer after a long while, the silence that draws between us is broken up by the soft buzz of nectar-desperate insects, intent on fattening with their fill before the night closes in around them. I can hear the way he smiles beside me even though I’m not looking at him, he thinks it’s a private thing he’s doing right now; it is not so much.

_“For me.”_

He murmurs, rolling over atop me and peering down at me as if he were trying to pluck the truth from within me with his piercing gaze alone. This pleases me, for I think that my companion is finally starting to see what is real and what is of the heart. Emotions are not part of our greater good, at least not emotions such as these, and yet I indulge him still.

It is not long before he is easing himself down onto me, all frailty and sickly sweet white.  I stretch out beneath him and prop my head in my own hands to watch the show; the greatest show on earth. If you could see the things that I see, the way his auburn locks were matted with dry brush and dead leaves, see the way his head tossed back with the abandon that he yearned to feel inside with each and every impaling slide of those too-frail hips. I grinned wild up at him; I think I might have laughed at the irony of all of this. We were contradiction and shame and we didn’t think to care much about it.

It’s not long at all before my name is once again a whimper on his lips, and this is one of those things that is beautiful and kind of sad and it strikes me as such in a moment of clarity. I give him what he wants, which is all of me and I think he’d like to try and keep it inside himself if he thought he could. His skin is once again plagued with a stain of red and he’s nothing but a heaving chest and panted breaths.

“You don’t need me inside of you to be free meine leibe, do you understand that yet?”

I say this to him after I have watched him all that I can, seen all that I have to see of him and tried my best to understand why he is the way he is. I am expecting an answer and instead he merely lays over me like a cover, burrowing his face in the warmth of my neck. I accept this for now, but I wait still; I have learned very quickly to never underestimate him.

_“For me.”_

Is his only reply and after that the rest is silence; or as silent as a late summer afternoon can bring you. We lay this way for a long time, my fingertips tracing the mark of The Hallows idly on his bare back over and over again. Magic crackles at my fingertips and I itch to make it a permanent stain on him; just another way to point out that he will never be free of me.

He will never be free.

Never.


End file.
